Rainy Afternoon
by Sholio
Summary: Sometimes friendship, like love, can be found in unexpected places. A Ranma & Ryoga story (but not slash).


Rainy Afternoon   
_Rated PG for occasional language._

Ranma 1/2 is copyright (c) Rumiko Takahashi.   
  
  
Rainy Afternoon By Sholio  
  
  


  
  


"Die Saotommmmeeeeeee!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," the pigtailed boy snapped, as his slippered foot connected with the bridge of Ryoga's nose. "Don't you ever get tired of this?"

"You cad," Ryoga panted, picking himself up off the ground. "You've broken Akane's heart for the last time, Saotome!"

"Her what? Jeez, Ryoga, she _asked_ me how she looked in that dress--" Ranma dodged a blow that shattered the telephone pole behind him.

"I don't have any idea why she values your lousy opinion, Saotome--" Another blow knocked a hole through a stone wall, while Ranma hopped agilely on top of a nearby chain-link fence. "If she'd asked me--"

"Yeah, but she didn't ask you, did she, P-chan? Woah! Pig-boy!" Ranma taunted, dodging blow after blow as the two boys danced back and forth on top of the fence. "C'mon, Ryoga, this is fun as usual, but we'd better get under cover before we get that rain they're forecastin' and the whole world sees you turn into a little black p--"

"SHUT UP!" Ryoga launched himself at his opponent. 

Ranma dodged the strike easily, but he lost his balance on top of the fence and fell into the duckpond behind it. Wet and furious, female Ranma splashed to the surface. "Ryoga, you jerk, I'm gonna beat the stuffing out of you!" she squealed.

Ryoga smirked, crouching on top of the fence. "Now I've got you, SaotommAAAA!" He recoiled as a drop of rain hurtled past his nose.

"See, you never listen," Ranma said, gazing up at the cloudy sky. "Looks like it's rainin' after all, eh P-chan?"

"Augghhhh!" Ryoga scrambled for his umbrella, but he was too far away. 

Ranma waded ashore and watched, smirking, her arms folded over her breasts. Eventually she walked through the growing drizzle to the tangle of damp clothing and helped extricate the struggling black piglet. Ryoga snarled and snapped at her hand. "Oops," Ranma said sweetly, dropping him in a mud puddle.

Ryoga clambered out of the puddle and glared at her. He refused to demean himself by shaking the water out of his fur, and he looked like a drowned rat. Ranma might have felt sorry for him if she hadn't been dripping herself. "So I hear all the girls are crazy about the smell of wet pig fur, huh?"

Ryoga bared his teeth and scampered across the street to his backpack. Ranma wandered after him, trying to shield her head as the drizzle became a downpour. "How are you planning to carry that, P-chan?"

The piglet glared at her and tried to edge his small round body under one of the backpack's straps. He was unable to get enough leverage to lift it. Hissing softly to himself, he gripped one edge of the backpack's fabric in his teeth and threw himself against it. The pig bounced backwards; the backpack didn't budge.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Ranma sighed, and reached down to lift the backpack. Ryoga growled at him.

"Cut it out, peabrain. You want to stay out here until you dry out on your own?"

Ryoga backed off with poor grace. Ranma got a grip on the backpack and heaved it about two inches off the ground. Then she dropped it. 

"What do you have in here, rocks?"

Ryoga growled. 

"I'm so good, sometimes I amaze myself," Ranma mumbled, managing to shoulder the pack. "I swear, P-chan, on the train ride home I'm putting you on the luggage rack."

Bent under the weight of the pack, she lurched across the street and wadded up Ryoga's soaked clothes. The piglet tried to hop on; Ranma batted him back into the mud puddle.

"Oh no you don't. You're walkin', porkchop."

The two of them trudged through the rain towards the train station, a temporary, unspoken truce prevailing. Ranma doubted her mood could get any darker. She was soaking wet, carrying what felt like that moron's entire supply of living room furniture -- and the weather report had forecasted intermittent rain for the next few days, meaning that once she got home and back to her normal gender, she'd be stuck indoors, probably watching P-chan snuggle up to Akane. The shame...

Suddenly Ranma raised her head. She'd taken a shortcut to the train station, and this area was suddenly familiar. 

"Hey, Ryoga, check it out. Isn't that your house?"

Ryoga looked around and squeaked a negative.

"This way, pig-brain." Ranma picked him up and pointed him in the right direction. Ryoga squeaked surprise.

"Jeez, Ryoga, don't you even recognize your own neighborhood? No wonder I always had to walk you home..." Ranma sighed and wrung the water out of her pigtail. "So let's get outta this downpour, huh?"

"?" said the pig.

"Your house, moron. You want to stay out here and play in mud puddles, or you wanna come in and get --ow!" Ranma tried to shake off the pig chewing on her arm. "Fine! You carry this damn pack, then!" She scraped off the pig and then dropped the pack on top of him, ignoring Ryoga's startled squeak of pain and surprise.

"Come on, idiot. I'm sure your parents would be happy to see you. All I need is a hot shower and an umbrella, and I'll be on my way back to the Tendo Dojo."

Ranma stalked across the street, with the piglet scampering after her as fast as his short legs would carry him. The windows of the Hibikis' house were dark, the door firmly locked. Ranma knocked, then stood on tiptoes trying to peer in.

"Looks like nobody's home. Where do you suppose they're at, P-chan? Hey, I bet you know where they keep the spare key, huh?" Ranma looked down at the piglet, who squeaked affirmatively. "So where is it?"

Ryoga shook his furry head, and looked meaningfully at his pack and clothing, lying forlornly in the rain. 

"Okay, fine. I drag your junk over here, you let me in, okay porkchop?"

Ryoga growled at him, but eventually nodded. Ranma hauled the pack onto the porch, while the pig rummaged in one of the flowerpots and came up with a large iron key. He jumped in the air, trying to reach the keyhole. "Jeez, P-chan..." Ranma took the key away and unlocked the door. 

The piglet scampered in ahead of him and Ranma dragged the pack after him, grumbling.

Ryoga's folks had a nice place, Ranma had to admit. He'd never been inside, back when they were in school -- the two boys had not been close, although Ranma had often wound up taking pity on Ryoga and leading him home when his lousy sense of direction left him wandering helplessly around the school grounds. After living so long at the Tendo Dojo and dealing with Soun and Genma's continual insistence on all things traditional and Japanese, it was a bit startling to be back in the modern world again. Television, Ranma thought eagerly, wandering by the big-screen set in the Hibikis' living room. He'd never got to watch TV as a child, except at friends' houses. Because my dad's a freak, Ranma thought -- at least Ryoga had normal parents, and look how that idiot turned out!

Ryoga had vanished upstairs. Ranma followed him in the hopes that the pig would lead him to a bathroom, and that was exactly where she found Ryoga -- standing on his piggy tiptoes in the bathtub, trying to reach the hot-water knob.

"Oh no you don't, P-chan. Ladies first!" Ranma stepped over the piglet and turned on the shower without bothering to take off her clothes; she couldn't exactly get any wetter.

"AAAIIIIEEEEE!!!" The water from the shower was ice cold. Ranma jumped out of the tub and let it run for a few minutes, hoping it would warm up, but it didn't.

"What's the matter with your folks? Hot water heater turned off or what?"

The pig squeaked and shrugged.

"Well, where is it, P-chan? You want to stay a pig all day?"

Ranma followed the piglet downstairs, wrapping her arms around her torso. "Jeez, it's freezing in here. Your folks must be some kind of energy-conservation fanatics, Hibiki. You'd think these breasts would give me some kinda insulation value, at least..."

Down in the basement, they found that the hot water heater was indeed turned off, and the thermostat was at its lowest setting. Ranma sighed and turned everything up. "It'll take forever to heat up. I guess it's the hot water kettle for us, then. Assuming your gas hasn't been turned off like everything else?"

It hadn't, and she put water on to boil in the Hibikis' kitchen, while the pig moped along at her heels. A note was taped to the fridge and Ranma peered at it.

"Gone out to dinner. Back late. Mom & Dad."

"Sweet," Ranma mumbled. "Dunno why they'd bother to turn everything off if they're only out for the evening, the freaks."

The pig jumped up and down, squeaking urgently. "What now?" Ranma picked him up and set him on the kitchen counter, where there was a notepad and pencil by the phone. The piglet picked the pencil up delicately in his fanged mouth and scribbled on the pad.

"Gmmflnnngrk?" Ranma guessed, tilting her head to the side and trying to read the scrawl.

The piglet glared at him, as if to say, You try writing without using your hands. He held the pencil in his forefeet and got somewhat better results. Ranma read: _Their sense of direction is worse than mine._

"Jeez, man, is that even possible?" 

Ryoga gave him another glare, and wrote, _Check the fridge to see how long they've been gone. That's what I do._

"Hmmm...." Ranma opened the refrigerator and recoiled from the stench of rotting vegetables. "Feh! This stinks!" She poked gingerly through the bottom drawer of the refrigerator -- the somewhat inaccurately named "crisper" -- and found amorphous black sludge. The milk didn't change orientation when she tilted its carton. She was afraid to open the top.

"Looks like they've been gone for months!" Ranma said in disbelief.

_Possible,_ the piglet wrote. _Water's hot._

Ranma dosed herself lightly. Ryoga hopped down to the kitchen floor and Ranma, male again, poured some of the water onto his furry back.

"Yeeow! That's hot, Saotome!"

"Payback for the duck pond, Hibiki."

Ryoga picked himself up off the floor, shivering. "It's freezing in here!" 

"You just now noticing that?"

"I had fur before." Ryoga went in search of clothing.

"Hey! Moron! I'm wet too, ya know! Because of you!"

"So?" Ryoga, halfway up the stairs, turned his head. "I thought you were leaving. You'll be soaked before you make it to the curb anyway, the way it's blowing out there. Umbrella or not." 

"Yeah, yeah," Ranma agreed in disgust. "So what do you expect me to do, sit around your living room in wet clothes? If I catch pneumonia I'm beating the crap out of you, pig-boy."

Ryoga snorted and disappeared upstairs. Ranma, shivering, found a throw blanket in the living room to wrap around himself.

"Hey, Saotome." Ryoga reappeared at the top of the stairs, dressed, and tossed some clothes his way. "These should fit. You can throw what you're wearing in the dryer."

"Hmm. Thanks." Ranma shed his soaked outfit. Ryoga's clothes fit a bit loosely, but it was infinitely better than freezing to death in the living room. The house was starting to warm up a bit, too. He took his wet clothes and poked around until he found the washer and dryer in the basement. When he came back up, Ryoga was in the kitchen, making tea.

"You're gonna make a lovely housewife someday, P-chan."

"Shut up, Saotome. So how long's it supposed to rain, anyway?"

"Oh... a while," Ranma said evasively.

"How long?"

"Till the middle of next week," Ranma admitted.

"What?!"

"But I'm sure it'll slack off before then." Ranma looked out the window at the gray curtains of rain whipping around the house. "It never rains like this for very long. You'd know that if you stayed in the same place for more than two days, P-chan. Anything to eat around here?"

"You are not staying here until next week, Saotome."

"Don't worry. I have no intention of doing that." Ranma poked around the kitchen and eventually came up with a box of crackers and some canned soup. Ryoga had taken his tea to the living room, where he curled up on the couch with a blanket around his shoulders and stared out the window. After putting soup on to heat, Ranma made himself a cup of tea and followed.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

"I, uh, opened a couple cans of soup," Ranma said. "In case you're hungry."

"Oh. Sure. Uh, thanks."

"Sure."

Several more minutes of uncomfortable silence followed. Life at the Tendo Dojo did not afford much time for quiet introspection. There were always other people around -- the Tendo family, or any of dozens of people trying to kill and/or marry somebody living under that roof.

"So," Ryoga said finally. "Why'd you come out here?"

Ranma shrugged. "Thought I'd get out of town for an afternoon. Wander around the old stomping grounds. Figured I could beat the rain home. And I would have, if you hadn't followed me."

Ryoga's battle aura flared briefly. "I had to avenge Akane."

"When are you going to get it through your skull, pig-boy -- she doesn't need avenging! She's perfectly capable of defending herself."

"After you left, she went to her room and cried for twenty minutes," Ryoga snapped, his battle aura flaring hotter.

"She did?" Ranma's eyes narrowed, pushing guilt down in favor of annoyance. "And how do you know that?"

"I was there."

"As P-chan, no doubt."

Ryoga looked away. "Look, it doesn't matter! Yeah, I was the pig. She still needed someone to comfort her. After you hurt her yet again. I don't know why the Tendos haven't thrown you out on your ear, Saotome."

"Me? I'm not the one cozying up to their youngest daughter's chest every night!"

Ryoga blushed to the roots of his hair and clenched his fist "Dammit, Saotome--"

"You wanna fight? Come on, pig-boy, we'll finish what we started when the rain interrupted."

Ryoga started to get up, then sank back down. "Not in here. My folks'd kill me if I trash their place."

"You never worried about trashing the Tendo Dojo!"

"It's different. Give it a rest, would you, Saotome?"

They were interrupted by the sound of violent hissing from the kitchen. "Aargh! The soup!" Ranma ran in to rescue the gas flame from being extinguished. The stink of burning soup filled the kitchen, and Ryoga cracked a window, with great care not to let the blowing rain touch his skin.

"For cryin' out loud, Saotome, I can't believe you can't even cook canned soup without screwing it up."

"Yeah, let's see you do better, pig-boy."

"Quit calling me that! I'm actually a pretty good cook, Saotome. I've had plenty of practice."

Ranma looked around at the cold, poorly stocked kitchen. "So your folks do this a lot, huh?"

Ryoga shrugged. "I think it's been years since they were both in the house at the same time. My dad traveled a lot on business, and Mom just... traveled a lot. Going to the store could take her a month. She'd come back by way of Osaka or something." He grinned suddenly, showing his fangs. "It was actually kind of cool. I had all kinds of neat toys from all over the world. The other kids were jealous."

That wasn't how Ranma remembered it -- more like the other kids thought Ryoga was a stuck-up little freak. He was fairly sure that Ryoga had gotten as good as he had at martial arts to avoid being bullied by the other children.

"It sounds lonely," Ranma said, surprising himself.

Ryoga shrugged. "Hey, everybody's had a lousy childhood." He busied himself digging through the cupboards. "I can't imagine you had a better one, not with Genma as a father."

Ranma shuddered. "Don't remind me. At least your folks didn't lock you in the basement, in the dark, with a bunch of cats."

Ryoga stared at him. "Is_ that _why you're afraid of cats?"

"I'm not afraid!" Ranma snapped. "I mean, not so you'd notice. I mean, maybe I get a little _nervous_ around cats..."

"You run in circles shrieking like a girl. Even on those rare occasions when you're _not_ a girl."

"I do not!"

"Aha." Ryoga came up with several cans and a bag of rice. "Let's see what I can do with this. Unless you want to eat burned soup, Saotome."

"Hey, I cooked it, I'll eat it," Ranma snapped.

After choking down a few bites, he unobtrusively (he thought) wandered upstairs and flushed the rest of it down the toilet. Then he wandered back into the kitchen to see how the cooking was coming along.

"Couldn't eat it, I see," Ryoga said. He'd tied one of his mother's aprons around himself and was up to the elbows in various ingredients.

"Hey! Hey! Take a look at this, pig-boy." Ranma showed him the empty bowl. "Not that I want to know what you're cooking, and of course I'm not hungry, but you know, if you need a guinea pig for taste testing or something..."

"Be useful, then. Mix these together. No, don't beat it that hard. You'll crush the water chestnuts."

"Wow. You really can cook," Ranma said, looking around the kitchen.

"What, did you think I was lying?"

"Wouldn't put it past you," Ranma muttered, and a large stirring spoon cracked the top of his head. "Ow!"

"Be useful or get out of the kitchen, Saotome."

"How come you never cooked at the Tendo Dojo?" Ranma asked, following Ryoga's directions and whisking together the contents of two of the cans.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll pound your head in, Saotome. Gimme that." He stirred a few things together, while Ranma watched in total incomprehension. Cooking was one thing he'd never had the slightest aptitude for. Well, he could cook better than Akane, but anyone could cook better than Akane, including a six-month-old autistic infant. Cooking was not a manly skill and Genma had discouraged him from learning -- which had caused the two of them to nearly starve to death a couple of times.

"Here. Try this."

Ranma nibbled hesitantly. "Hey, that's not bad. It's edible, I mean." Actually it was excellent.

Ryoga grinned. "It's not too often I actually get to cook for somebody else. I mean, it _is_ only you, but it's still a bit of a challenge. Not that you're going to mention this to anyone, of course."

"Yeah, like I need to keep another secret for you, P-chan."

"Do you want food, Saotome?"

"Sorry! Sorry!"

The boys took their plates into the living room and sat cross-legged on the couches to eat.

"Your folks really go for the Western-style furniture and everything," Ranma said.

"Just because some people's parents like to live in the nineteenth century doesn't mean everyone's parents do..." 

Ranma opened his mouth for a heated reply, when there was a sudden clatter from the kitchen. He almost dropped his plate. "Hey, you think that's your folks?"

"No," Ryoga cried, "it's Checkers! Hey! Checkers!"

The black-and-white dog darted through the kitchen door and bounded onto the couch with Ryoga, who hastily rescued his plate and set it on the floor before indulging the dog's enthusiastic licking-greeting. "Hey, Checkers, good to see you too, but you're soaking wet," he laughed.

The dog appeared to notice Ranma for the first time and turned her attention to him. "Hey, hey, good dog." He petted her on her wet head. "I hadn't even noticed she wasn't around when we came in."

"She comes and goes," Ryoga said, picking up his plate. "There's a pet door in the kitchen and my folks usually leave a big pile of dry food for her whenever they go anywhere. The neighbors feed her too. I think she spends more time over there than she does over here, now that I'm gone." 

"What happened to her puppies?"

"Gave 'em away." Ryoga was feeding the dog small bites of food from his chopsticks, encouraging her to sit or stand on her hind legs for the treats. "I found good homes for them. I thought about trying to find another place for Checkers too, 'cause I know it's lonely here for her. But I really didn't have the heart. She's a sweet dog and my parents like her. C'mon, Checkers, come into the kitchen and I'll find some dinner for you."

After Checkers ate, she came and curled up on the couch with Ryoga. The two boys finished eating and Ranma, without even complaining, washed the dishes while Ryoga tidied up the rest of his parents' kitchen and threw out the spoiled food. They went about their tasks in silence.

That's what's so weird about this, Ranma thought, drying the dishes. It's so quiet. Nobody's screaming or breaking things or fighting. Heck, even when there's no crisis at the Dojo, there's always Akane's sisters running in and out, and Pop and Soun sparring or just arguing about politics or whatnot... 

"Looks like it's getting dark out there," Ryoga said, breaking into his thoughts. "Are you going home tonight, Saotome?"

Ranma thought about going back to the Tendo Dojo. Akane would be sulking about his earlier comment, and her sisters would take her side and Soun would get all weepy... and Genma had probably devised some horrific new training exercise while he'd been away...

"It's still pouring out there," he said without looking out the window. "I'll see if it slacks off by morning."

"You think they'll worry?"

"We could call."

They both thought about that.

"Naah," they said simultaneously. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

By unspoken consent, they endeavored to leave the kitchen cleaner than they'd found it. Ranma even climbed up on a chair to dust the tops of the cabinets, and he made a discovery.

"Hey, Ryoga, check this out." He held up a bottle of sake.

"Saotome! My folks would be so pissed if they saw you..."

"How are they going to find out? They're not here, man. Have you ever had anything to drink?"

"Well... no."

"Me neither. I'm kind of curious what's supposed to be so great about it. Aren't you?"

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Ryoga mumbled, digging out two cups. Ranma opened the bottle clumsily and poured small amounts into each cup. They clinked the cups, giggling and feeling like naughty children.

A minute later, both were hacking and coughing.

"That's... so... nasty!" Ranma gasped. "I wonder why people seem to like it so much."

"Dunno," Ryoga wheezed. He took another cautious sip. "It's not so bad if you drink it slowly."

Ranma hesitantly took another gulp, setting off a new round of coughing.

"Slowly! Slowly, Saotome! What, are you deaf too?"

They took the cups and the bottle into the living room.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Ranma said, sipping, and topping off his cup. "Want a little more?"

"Sure. We shouldn't get drunk, though."

"No. Of course not."

"I wonder how much it takes to get drunk?"

"Dunno. Never tried." Ranma took another drink. "You know, this doesn't seem nearly as nasty as it was the first time."

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"So you really never got into your folks' alcohol at all? Even with them being gone so much?"

"I never really wanted to, back when I lived at home," Ryoga said, swishing the sake around in his cup. "I mean, for most kids, it's a rebel kind of thing. Sneaking around behind their parents' backs. I never had to sneak around; they were never _there_. I could stay up as late as I wanted, turn the music up as loud as I wanted..."

"Sounds like heaven," Ranma said wistfully, thinking of his childhood, the late nights out in the forest sparring with Genma, a log strapped to his back...

"Oh yeah. Bliss," Ryoga agreed sarcastically, reaching for the bottle. "I mean, I guess it'd be freeing if you weren't used to it, but after a while it seems like there's no point to anything. I get a good report card -- big deal, if no one's there to see it when I get home. I used to go to bed hungry, most nights, until I figured out how to cook. I must have been six or seven at the time."

"Weren't your parents _ever_ home?"

Ryoga shrugged and stared off into the distance. "Oh, sometimes, sure. Probably more often, looking back, than it seemed like at the time. Sometimes they'd even both be there, and that's what would be like heaven to me. It was like having a normal family. I used to lay awake at night and pray that this time, my folks would just stay home. But of course they'd always leave, sooner or later."

"So that's why you were such a bastard at school," Ranma mused.

Ryoga glowered.

"Well, you were."

"So what's your excuse, bread thief?"

"For what?"

"Being a bastard in school."

"I wasn't!" Ranma protested with wounded dignity.

"Oh, yeah, right. That's why you always had to win every contest. You had to jump higher and run faster than every other boy at school. Every day you stepped on my head and took my bread... but I realized after a while that there wasn't any malice. It seemed like you never even noticed whose head you were stepping on, as long as yours wasn't getting stepped on."

"Well, what's wrong with that?" Ranma muttered.

"It's just a little odd. I remember seeing you out training with your old man... Don't look at me like that, I wasn't spying, just -- taking the scenic way home. One time I saw you guys out there at two in the morning. You looked like you were ready to drop. Next day, you dozed off in Chem class... and I got to wondering if that might not be why you were so cranky all the time."

Ranma was shaken. He had no idea that anyone knew about those late-night training sessions that had made his teen years hell -- especially not Ryoga. "Why didn't you ever say anything about that?"

Ryoga snorted, spilling a bit of sake. "What was I gonna say? Everybody has a lousy childhood. My folks are absent-minded strangers, and your dad's a bastard."

Ranma bristled. He felt too comfortable to want to get up off the couch and fight, though, so all he could manage was a rather half-hearted, "Hey! Don't talk that way about Pop!"

"Huh. Anybody who locks their kid in a room full of cats is a bastard, as far as I can see."

"What? How'd you find out about that?"

"You told me earlier, you dink."

"Oh," Ranma said. "That's right. I think I'm going to lay down. Oh, wait, I already am..."

He looked over at Ryoga, who was sprawled across the other couch with Checkers, trying to drink from his cup without spilling sake on his shirt -- unsuccessfully. "Hey, Ryoga?"

"Huh?"

"Is it just me, or is the room sort of spinning?"

"Like, spinning how? Like wobbling, or more like going around and around?"

"Around and around."

Ryoga looked contemplatively at the ceiling for awhile. "Not just you," he said eventually. "It really is."

"Oh. That's good to know."

"Any more sake left, Saotome?"

Ranma tilted the bottle. "Nope. All gone."

"You don't think we're drunk, do you?"

Ranma watched the ceiling seesaw gently. "I think there's a definitely possibility. Are you enjoying this?"

"Not much."

"Me neither."

"Coffee is supposed to help."

"Think your folks have any?"

"I dunno."

"I can find out." Ranma started to swing his legs over the side of the couch, teetered, and fell back into more or less the position he'd been in before.

"Hey, Ryoga?"

"What?"

"Don't sit up. It makes it worse."

"Oh. Okay. I'll just stay here, then."

"I think I will too."

"I wonder what Akane is doing now," Ryoga mused aloud, gazing wistfully into the shadows.

Ranma snorted, suppressing another, more severe twinge of guilt at his thoughtless comments earlier. Had she really been crying? "Sulking, probably. Who cares. I just can't figure out what you see in an uncute tomboy like that."

Ryoga's voice had a strange sound when he said, "Is that true, Ranma?"

"What?"

"That you can't see what I... I mean, that you don't see anything in Akane. When you look at her. Nothing?"

Ordinarily he would say Nothing, and laugh off the idea. But lying in the dim room, half drunk, he saw Akane's face, drifting into his mind's eye. The way she tilted her head when she was angry. The sparkle in her eyes on those rare occasions when he did something that made her happy.

"She's not really all that uncute, after all," Ranma admitted. "I just tell her that. You know, so she doesn't get a swelled head or anything."

"It hurts her feelings. She cares about what you think, you jerk."

"Well, what about you? How do you think she's going to feel when she finds out that you've been pretending to be her pet in order to sleep in the same bed with her? And you called _me_ a jerk."

There was a long silence from across the room. Ranma began to wonder if Ryoga might have drifted off to sleep. He was feeling rather sleepy himself. Then Ryoga said, "That's not what it's about at all, Saotome."

"Huh?" Ranma was startled out of a half-doze. "What?"

"Akane. My motives towards Akane. All right, I can't pretend to be totally pure, but -- damn it, Ranma!" Ryoga twisted his head to the side to look at Ranma. "All you ever do is put her down. She needs somebody to comfort her. She'd never look at me twice if she knew what I really was. She hardly looks at me at all when I'm a man... certainly not like she looks at you. I mean -- I mean, you have so many girls, all of them thinking you're the greatest, and I don't have -- I mean -- do you know how that feels? Would it hurt you so much to just let me have one of them?"

"You can have Kodachi," Ranma said. It was the first stupid joke that popped into his mind. He was too stunned by Ryoga's uncharacteristic openness to have any idea what he really wanted to say. _I'm sorry_... maybe that was the beginning.

"Shut up, Saotome." Ryoga rolled halfway over on the coach so that his back was to Ranma. Checkers grunted and moved onto the floor to find a spot where no one was trying to roll over her.

Ranma was wide awake now. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to think of something useful to say.

"I mean," Ryoga went on in a low voice, speaking to the back of the couch. "It's not like I'd even mind as much... well, okay, I'd still mind, but if Akane found somebody she was really happy with... I mean, if you weren't such a _jerk_ to her all the time, Ranma... I guess if it's not me, and I'm such an idiot when it comes to women that it'll probably never be me with her or anybody else... I guess you're the next one that I'd rather... I mean, if you weren't such a jerk to her, that is."

Ranma stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed. 

"Ryoga..."

"Of the options," Ryoga added hastily. "Of the options, I mean, and look at who the options are."

"Kuno," Ranma said, half-smiling.

"Hiroshi."

"Daisuke."

"Gosunkugi."

"Dr. Tofu."

"Mousse."

"Happosai."

They both started laughing at that mental image.

"How'd we ever wind up surrounded by such a bunch of freaks?" Ranma wondered.

"Yeah," said Ryoga, "like _we're_ so normal ourselves."

Ranma laughed.

Ryoga rolled to a sitting position on the couch and rested his head in his hands. "Owww. If this is getting drunk, I don't think I like it much."

"Yeah. I don't see what's so great about it."

"Spending the night, Saotome?"

Ranma waved his hand at the rain lashing the windows. "I don't think I'm going anywhere in this."

"True. Well, I'll show you where the clean bedding is. You can sleep on the couch if you'd like."

Ranma followed him down to the basement and got his clothes out of the dryer while Ryoga scrounged up blankets and a pillow. All the while, Ranma was trying to think of something to say -- something like, _I know I'm a jerk sometimes_ or _I never knew you had it rough too_. But there seemed to be nothing to say and no way to say it, so he merely followed Ryoga back up the stairs with an armful of bedding and laid it out on the couch.

"Night, Ryoga."

"Night, Saotome."

Ryoga flicked up the lights and started up the stairs, followed by Checkers. Ranma lay on his back on the darkened couch, and as he lay staring at the ceiling, he realized that this had been an unexpectedly enjoyable evening. Just quiet, relaxing. Fun.

He hadn't realized how lonely he was -- not for a girlfriend, God no, he had more than enough problems along those lines as it was -- no, for a friend. Someone to hang out with. Someone he could relax around; someone he could do things with. Ucchan was all right, but she was still conspiring, like all the other women in his life, to entrap him somehow. Not that a guy didn't mind the attention, but still... it got wearing sometimes.

He'd never really had a friend at all. Even in school, he'd moved so often and been so busy outside of class that he'd never had much time to make attachments there, either.

He hadn't realized until tonight that it had been similar for Ryoga.

Watching him climb the stairs, Ranma thought: And tomorrow neither of us will say anything about this. Things will be just the same, and we'll fight and he'll try to beat me and I'll beat him over and over. Only I don't think I hate him. I don't think I ever really hated him. And tonight, I think I found out that he doesn't hate me either.

But we have to go on being enemies.

Because neither of us will say anything.

Ryoga was almost to the top of the stairs.

"Hey, Ryoga," Ranma called softly, half hoping Ryoga would turn around and hear him, half hoping he wouldn't.

Ryoga turned around.

"You say something, Saotome?"

"Yeah, I just got to thinking... there's that new movie in town, that American action flick. I've been wanting to go, but it's not like any of the Tendos would be interested in that sort of thing. If it's still raining, I dunno..."

He saw a quick flash of Ryoga's teeth, smiling involuntarily in the dark.

"That looks like a pretty good flick to me, too."

"There's a matinee."

"Good, 'cause I think you're buying, Saotome."

"Me? Why me?"

Ryoga shrugged. "I don't have any money."

"What makes you think I do? Jerk." Ranma buried his head in his pillow.

"Whose food have you been eating? Jeez."

"Okay, okay," Ranma mumbled through the pillow. "You're right. Movie's on me."

"See you tomorrow."

"See ya tomorrow." And Ranma found himself grinning, his face turned towards the pillow, where no one could see him.   
  
  
_ This fic was written when I'd only read a few of the manga books, so some of the details are a little off. I keep meaning to go back and fix it, but never do..._  



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